A New Beginning
by Anodyne
Summary: Hermione was just shoved into the past where she must face her toughest challenge: Tom Riddle. But is it Riddle she's so confused about, or the love that slowly binds them together?
1. Chapter 1

A jolting pain went up Hermione's skull and she gasped, flicking her eyes open. A strand of frizzy brown hair blocked her view as she sat up and slowly removed it from her face, tucking the strand behind her ear.

She was all alone.

Hermione held back bitter tears of anxiety and confusion as she observed the room around her, suddenly not caring if anyone found her. It was a dimly lit classroom, filled with a few scattered papers and dust lingering in the air. The seats were un-touched, thick coatings of dust on the surface. It was cold, empty, and dark. Like her world had been.

She stood up slowly, wincing at the pain still surging through her head. Her legs ached as if she had run a mile and her robes were wrinkled. She dusted them off without much effort and smoothed back her dark frizzy hair, her eyes not taking in anything she was seeing.

Hermione was back in the past, shoved into the time-warp without a second thought. She remembered it clearly; Dumbledore's eyes were depending on her, pleading her to leave without him. He was trapped- boxed in by five Death Eaters who were taking their time in killing him. He had refused to yell in pain as they sent cruel curses at him, each one snickering as he winced unwillingly. Dumbledore was so pale, so helpless, while Hermione was screaming, blindly kicking the Death Eater holding her. He almost snapped her neck to make her watch what was happening to him as she struggled. The tears muffled her cries and all she could do was watch as each Death Eater sent another torture spell at Dumbledore, then- just for added fun- they all sent one at once. It was too hard for him to bear and he finally sank down to his knees, every breath he took hurting.

At this she elbowed the strong man holding her from behind who was too busy enjoying the scene, and raced towards her old headmaster. He had always been there, always been strong, and now he was helpless- tiring from the endless battles with Voldemort. Hermione had to save him before it was too late.

Suddenly he had stood up with great difficulty, his ribs seemed ready break with each breath.

"Stop..." he whispered, clutching his stomach tightly. One Death Eater held his hand up, signaling for all of them to stop. Their wands were raised in mid-air as each menacing hooded figure seemed to smirk.

Hermione knew Dumbledore was telling her to stop but she wouldn't obey; all she saw was him and how she had to save him. There was no plan, no brilliant spell to help her now. She would lunge into battle and fight till she died, but right now she wasn't thinking about that.

"_Stop._"

His ragged breathing suddenly turned to a painfully firm voice as he looked at her with blue eyes, the twinkle diminished. He was pleading her to turn around, to _leave _him. She wouldn't, she refused to, she wouldn't give up without a fight.

"You're... You're the only- the only _chance_, Hermione," he whispered, groaning from the pain in his chest. "Go back. Go_ back!_"

Suddenly the image in front of her eyes blurred and the scene seemed to pause, then rewind. The last thing she saw was Dumbledore crying out loud in pain with a final green blast and then the image repeating itself. Hermione blinked, desperately trying to see him through the blur. She reached out, but was suddenly sucked in. And then she knew- Dumbledore had sent her back in time. Where? She would find out soon.

Hermione blinked the tears away as her mind returned to the present- or rather the past. She sniffed and leaned against the closest desk, staring miserably at the dirty piece of parchment underneath her foot. Why didn't she save him sooner? Was he alright? Did he actually send her back in time?

She picked up the parchment absentmindedly and turned it around. Surprisingly, there were faded words printed on the front, with a few dirty splotches of ink and blurred letters. But that wasn't what caught Hermione's eye. It was the date- September 21, 1944.

She collapsed and slowly slid down the seat, the paperfalling out of her hands. Half-a-freaking-century ago. What did Dumbledore want her to do?

In the exhausted state she was in, she felt her body stiffly adjusting to the chair in the back of her and suddenly the room went dark. She closed her eyes and felt the conscious world drift away.

* * *

Hermione awoke to soft voices echoing around the room in hushed whispers, each person nervously speaking. Keeping her eyes closed she listened, despite the teriffied feeling she had in the pit of her stomach. She felt soft bedsheets under her body and fluffed pillows comfortably resting beneath her head. A heavy blanket covered her, warm and inviting. 

She was about to jolt up and hex the next person she saw, but suddenly a voice in another room sounded. What the man said made all the hairs in the back of Hermione's neck stick up and her stomach queasy.

"Maybe we should get that boy, Tom Riddle, to escort her around the school. Yes, a fine young man-"

She nearly gasped, her face creasing with confusion. _Tom Riddle! _A million thoughts raced through Hermione's mind. Had Dumbledore sent her back to _destroy_ the younger version of Voldemort? What was she going to do? Did she have to kill him? Where was she?

Finally, she opened her eyes, squinting at the bright streams of light coming from the familiar windows of the hospital. Yes, she was in the hospital, but nothing else was absorbed by her brain. Sensing no one nearby anymore, she slowly glided her legs down to the ground, the cold surface coming in contact with her sensitive toes. She rose, praying that the bed wouldn't creak and stood up cautiously, her eyes scanning the room.

There was a shuffling noise and the large doors burst open, a strict-looking woman accompanied by another, more familiar man. Panicking, Hermione froze and her head snapped in the direction of the two surprised looking adults. Instantly she knew who the man was.

The younger version of Dumbledore had a shorter beard and and magnificent twinkle in his light blue eyes. His pale skin contrasted with his deep purple robes that dragged behind him and his crooked hat gleamed pleasantly in the light.

"Good morning," he said pleasantly.


	2. Sorting Out the Mess

**A/N**: Thanks to **LaNi-GoLDfiSh**, **T.J Wardle**, and **nina-luvs-mnms** for reviewing! Thanks guys, it means _a lot._ I'll make sure to update as much as I can, but I procrastinate a lot. Reviews really do inspire me though, thanks again!

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Hermione miserably stabbed her fork into the pumpkin pie, in no mood to eat. She felt the piercing stare of the students as she sat at the farthest end of the Gryffindor table, ready to send out as many glares as she could. Her brain had not fully absorbed everything that was happening, but she pushed the confusion aside and began connecting the things that _did_ make sense.

She knew that Dumbledore had sent her back to 1944- she stabbed her food again- for a reason. The most possible reason would be that he wanted her to change the past to prevent the future. He wanted her to _destroy_ Tom Riddle.

Hermione watched as the insides of her pumpkin pie begin oozing out, reminding her of the meltdown her brain was having. She let out a groan of frustration, scaring the first year that was passing and dropped her head onto the table in defeat.

The younger version of Dumbledore had asked her a couple questions which she was hesitant to answer. She remembered his patient look and the painful reminder that he would be tortured to death in the future. In her future, Voldemort would've won. Hermione bit her lip, not knowing what to do. She didn't tell Dumbledore anything more than her name and logically decided that it was best not to tell him about the future overlord of the world just then.

"You talk to her! Come on, it can't be that bad-" urgent voices softly emerged from the back of her and she snapped her head up, annoyed at the fact that people could be so _rude_. Hermione turned around and saw two girls speaking in hushed tones, staring pointedly at her. Obviously they were deciding whether or not to talk to her.

_I don't have time for this_. Hermione stood up, ready to leave and abandon her mutilated pie.

"Wait!" the blonde, curly-haired girl suddenly shouted, catching her attention. Her light blue eyes and rosy cheeks contrasted with Hermione's dark brown eyes and hair. Hermione raised her eyebrows and turned around, furiously trying not to snap at the girl. She needed time to think, not to make friends.

"I- hi- er- are you new?" _Gee, do you think?_

"Uh, yeah. I'm-" Hermione paused, thinking of the consequences. She decided it didn't matter, she had already told Dumbledore. "-I'm Hermione."

"Oh," said the flushed teenager, accompanied by another girl with fiery red hair. Hermione resisted the urge to stare- she reminded her too much of Ron.

"I'm Ella Donald. This is Rose Turner," the blonde girl said, pointing to her friend. _Well, isn't that nice._

Hermione squashed her sarcastic thoughts and forced a smile. She saw the relieved faces of the girls and said, "Yeah, nice to meet you guys. Er, I'm kind of in a rush though, gotta go catch up on a few things-"

"Great! Can we help?"

She stared at the two grinning faces incredulously, not believing that they could be so dense. When would they catch the hint that she wanted to be _alone_?

"I don't think so, it's kind of..." Hermione cleared her throat, trying to think of a good enough excuse. "It's kind of personal. You know, need to get some things cleared up and stuff,"

_Leave me the hell alone._

Rose nodded and waved as Hermione ended the conversation and headed towards the big doors of the Great Hall. She had just made two new friends that were going to prove no help to her situation. She walked at a furious pace towards the library passing familiar portraits of people. She smiled bitterly, thinking of her old life.

Walking through the empty hallways, she instinctively made two right turns and came upon the comforting sight of the library. The smell of books and the crinkling of paper made her close her eyes and then scold herself for being such a dork. With a renewed smile, she walked slowly through the entrance, admiring the tall shelves and wooden furniture. She lingered a bit in the same spot before passing a few bookshelves and finding the right spot, a table secluded comfortably behind many obstacles of books. Here she would be able to think.

Collapsing into the wooden chair, she exhaled her tensions and rested her head in her arms. What was she going to do? The same question had been tormenting her for hours and she sat there, refusing to cry. Hermione rested in the same spot for the longest time, confused and lost in her swirling emotions.

Finally, she realized the soft murmur of people were fading. It was getting late and she had to do something other than sulk all day. Reluctantly, she stood up in her seat, and yawned, beginning to push in her chair. Suddenly she stepped on something- a book probably and turned around, preparing to pick it up. What she saw was nothing like a book, but a body.

Her eyes fearfully traveled upwards and finally reached the face staring down at her coldly. His handsome features astonished Hermione and she would've blushed if she wasn't in such a complicated situation. He had very dark brown eyes that covered any recognizable emotion, making his facial expression blank. His perfectly brushed hair was black, adding to his mysterious aura. He had a strong jaw line and pale skin, reflecting his dark eyes that pierced through Hermione. A Slytherin crest was pinned on neatly to his black robes and instantly Hermione narrowed her eyes.

_Crap._

"Sorry," she muttered before stepping back and bumping into the chair. She was surrounded by books and the tall teenager in front of her was blocking her way. Slowly he stepped to the side and she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. Wasn't he going to say anything? _Real nice guy._

Hermione walked away, regaining her composure and heard the small scraping of a chair- most likely he had taken her seat. _A nicer jack-ass would've said excuse me._

She silenced her harsh mind, knowing she shouldn't judge so quickly, but his gaze made her feel uncomfortable. Plus, he didn't even _say_ anything. But maybe he just didn't like talking. Whatever it was, Hermione felt an odd chill race up her spine, knowing that she would encounter him more than once. But it was just a feeling.

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**A/N**: Again, thanks for the reviews guys! I hope you liked this chapter, it was Hermione's first encounter with - gasp - yes, Tom Riddle. And her killer instinct would prove to be right, she would meet him later on,especially in the next chapter. I also had to show that Hermione wasn't just some average girl passing as a nerd, she's also very sarcastic in this story. If she seems a bit judgemental, forgive me, but often I go through phases like hers. Please review or message me, I'd love to hear your comments. 


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